Seungyoon was insane.

Or—at least, that was what he thought when he boarded the plane bound for the South.

For the life of him, Seungyoon knew that he would never set foot to the South lands—ever—no matter the circumstance. But here he was, joining the party, bags and guitar on hand.

He laughed dryly at himself. Deep down, he knew that at some point he would have to settle something once and for all, even if it meant unwanted consequences.

Not to mention, he owed someone an explanation—someone who probably forgot him, or rather, the person Seungyoon wished—foolishly—that didn’t remember him.

He laughed once more at himself. He really was insane.

-

When the plane finally landed in the Seoul airport, Seungyoon went down along with the rest of the party. After a few last-minute instructions, everybody set off and scattered to their respective areas. Meanwhile, he set out for the Seoul metropolis, aiming to find a place for him to stay.

It didn’t take him long to find an inn—it was just a few negotiations with the innkeeper and faking his accent to lessen the hassle—and now, as he rearranged his things, he thought about his actions and decisions that led him here.

Originally, Seungyoon wasn’t really assigned to Seoul—he was assigned to the southern part of Jeolla province.

It was easy to fool the authorities that he really couldn’t understand the dialect, no matter how much he’d tried. In reality, Seungyoon was a fast learner. He could memorize a map within minutes and even master a dialect or language if he put his mind to it.

Then again, he had other plans, plans that involved his crazy decisions and wishful thinking.

Anyway, Seungyoon was insane, so might as well get through hell thoroughly.

-

The streets of Hongdae reminded him of his hometown in the North—crowded, noisy, and bustling with people from different places. The stalls offered various Southern goods, the shops sold wares Seungyoon wanted to purchase.

However, it was neither the colorful goods nor the singing street artists that truly caught his attention.

It was that familiar face, those familiar eyes—dark and piercing, yet would always sparkle like that of a child’s—that could only belong to a certain person.

Before he could even hesitate, before he could even step back and run, those eyes locked with his and Seungyoon’s mouth exclaimed, “Mino!” and his arm waves.

Why did I why did I why did I—

Mino waved back at him, his eyes crinkling, and Seungyoon found himself weaving through the crowd towards him.

He hugged Mino with his free arm, the former’s warmth seeping through his skin. “It’s been so damn long!” Seungyoon exclaimed, unable to keep his wide smile off his face. “How have you been?”

“Well, I’m fine,” Mino muttered.

“Hey, you don’t even seem sincere,” Seungyoon said, frowning—an expression of mock hurt.

“Still that annoying kid I met before, I see,” Mino rolled his eyes, and Seungyoon could feel that familiar warmth in his chest, the happiness he’d always felt whenever he was with him.

Seungyoon hit Mino’s head playfully, and their laughter rang in the streets.

-

They spent the day touring most of Seoul’s metropolis, enjoying the sights and tastes of the city. Seungyoon learned a lot about the city from Mino, which was more than enough for his report that he needed to submit.

In the midst of all their laughing, Seungyoon was aware of the gnawing feeling in his chest, something that had bothered him ever since he boarded the plane. It was a mixture of guilt and agony and regret and sadness—emotions he’d refused to acknowledge and feel years ago after he never went back.

But now, with Mino’s presence, those emotions now threatened to devour him.

Most importantly, he could feel it again—something he’d always wanted to escape from, a terrifying fantasy heaven knew he wouldn’t be able to deny in the long run.

Thus the agony, thus the pain, thus the sadness Seungyoon tried—desperately—to hide in his smile.

Thus the longing—he wondered if Mino could see it in his eyes, or feel it in his touch.

Seungyoon wished Mino did.

Seungyoon prayed Mino didn’t.

-

By nightfall, the two stopped at the inn where Seungyoon stayed. He really wouldn’t have minded being with Mino more, but he was afraid that Mino’s family would look for him.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Or maybe bump into you on any of these streets,” Seungyoon told him, trying to keep a smile on his face.

“Maybe,” he heard Mino mumble, and Seungyoon’s chest felt like it was about to burst.

Maybe, just maybe—

He couldn’t help grinning anyway. “I guess I’ll just try to maximize my stay here.”

Mino’s eyes were suddenly dark and unreadable as he said, “Get in, you punk, if you want to ‘maximize’ your time,” and pushed him towards the threshold.

Seungyoon laughed lightly. With his hand on the doorknob, he whispered, “Good night, Mino.”

Mino smiled at him—that smile that Seungyoon found the most beautiful. “Good night, Seungyoon.”

-

That night, after finishing his report, he turned to his guitar and found himself strumming its strings to a sad song.

Tonight, it’s raining in my heart

-

He spent the next several days walking around the areas he hadn’t gone yet, taking time to explore the shops as well as the people around.

As far as Seungyoon observed, Seoul isn’t much different from Pyeongyang—well, maybe except for the obvious progress on the former. But when it came to the stories he’d heard from the people, to the children freely playing on the streets, to the sights and to the sunsets, those cities were one and the same.

He wondered why there was a division between the countries when in fact they were supposed to be one. United. Not like this—with fake pleasantries and tension simmering underneath.

Then again, there are things between governments he may not understand—or maybe even refuse to understand—whether they will be disclosed or not. Sometimes, he wished that their lives wouldn’t be this complicated, no compromising decisions would be made, and no regrets would be felt.

He wondered what could have happened if no division existed—would they be happy? Would they live in peace? And—will they be able to simply enjoy the world as it is?

Will there even be a place in this stupid world where they accepted something that is considerably . . . wrong and immoral?

He snorted.

He thought not.

-

“Quite a surprise to see you here in the South, Seungyoon,” Jiho noted as he gave him a bottle of yogurt milk. “I thought you wouldn’t join stuff like this?”

Seungyoon shrugged, smiling wryly. “I changed my mind.”

He was inside a small store selling vinyl, sitting across a person Seungyoon had always admired ever since he was a child.

Like him, Woo Jiho was from the North who always went to the South every year. He was intelligent and wise beyond his years, and he had always been the big brother Seungyoon wanted to have.

Actually, they could really be mistaken as flesh-and-blood siblings, as they looked almost alike. However, Jiho’s features were sharper, in contrast to Seungyoon’s soft features.

Jiho chuckled at his answer. “You changed your mind? Interesting.”

Seungyoon laughed. “Tell me about it, hyung. It may be even considered as an insane decision on my part.”

“No decision is insane, Seungyoon, especially if you have a sensible reason behind it.”

The store was quiet, save for the occasional sips—and complaints from Jiho about the coffee in can—then Jiho asked him, “Why is it insane, then?”

Seungyoon looked up at him. “Pardon?”

“You mentioned that your decision was insane. Why?”

Seungyoon looked away, pondering how to answer it without sounding stupid or crazy. After a few minutes he whispered, “Let’s just say that I decided to settle something that must have been done years ago.”

“And?”

“And . . . just go along with it, no matter the consequences it would bring.”

Jiho’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And it seems to me . . . that you’re suffering from the consequences already.”

Seungyoon smiled sadly. “Is it that obvious?”

“I’ve known you ever since you were a kid, Seungyoon—of course it would be obvious to me.”

Seungyoon sighed and looked down. “I wish . . . I wish I never did that.” He mumbled after a long moment.

“Did what?”

“Never went back there. I wish I never did that. I wish I left at least a note,” his whispered brokenly. “Right now, I wish I never even set foot here.”

Jiho was quiet, but Seungyoon could feel the older man’s feet shuffle towards him.

“I’m really sorry, Seungyoon-ah,” Jiho said softly, hugging him.

“I wish I went back there in the meadow for the last time before I left for good. I wish I told him at least. But—” Seungyoon stopped, trying to hold his tears.

“Circumstances stopped you,” Jiho completed for him. “As well as the norms of our country.”

“Why?!” Seungyoon cried, tears now dampening Jiho’s shirt. “This is so unfair, hyung! So unfair! This hurts, it hurts so much I—!” he sobbed, unable to talk anymore.

Jiho gently rubbed the younger man’s back, trying to soothe him.

“Love is never wrong, Seungyoon,” Jiho breathed. “Always remember that.”

--

In his fourth day, Seungyoon resolved to go back to the meadow during the wee hours of the morning. He prayed that no soldier would stop him—or worse, detain him.

Luckily, it was a free area, so he was able to go there without any problems.

The meadow was a beautiful sight—the grass was sparkling with dew, and the shrubs grew abundantly around the place. They were full of those wild blooms Mino had always liked, and Seungyoon smiled at the memory of Mino laughing around the meadow.

It was a beautiful memory—and a bittersweet one.

Seungyoon sat down on the grass, picking a bud and twirling it on his fingers. He never understood why Mino loved these flowers, but maybe it was because they held a beauty only very few could see.

It was one of the many reasons why he liked him—despite his seemingly tough looks, he was tender and bright and warm, like the summer sunshine. His eyes always spoke of a story waiting to unfold, and his voice was so rich and deep.

And he was beautiful, Seungyoon thought.

He closed his eyes and lay down on the grass.

Love is never wrong, Seungyoon. Always remember that.

Seungyoon hoped so.

--

‘Is Seoul really this small?’ Seungyoon mused, trying to hold back a chuckle.

Across from the coffee shop where he was doing his report, he saw Mino enter the painting shop. Seungyoon remembered that Mino used to dribble a lot on his notebook whenever they met on the meadow, so it was not much of a surprise to see him there.

Seungyoon deliberated whether or not to meet him, to have a small chat or anything—never mind the possible pain he’ll feel later on.

The moment he spotted that Mino was about to leave, he stood up abruptly and picked up his notes. Screw it.

He went out of the coffee shop after paying his bills and called out, “Mino!”

He held back a laugh as he watched Mino jump in surprise and turn to look at him. Mino glared at him in annoyance, and this time, Seungyoon couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“You rascal,” Mino growled as he walked towards him. “Is calling people out of nowhere your hobby now, Kang Seungyoon?”

Seungyoon laughed. “Recently, maybe.”

Mino rolled his eyes, but he smiled nonetheless. “What’s up?”

Seungyoon grinned. “I was wondering if it would be okay to hang out with you today, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” Mino instantly replied, his face glowing. “Where to?”

Seungyoon shrugged. “I don’t know. But first—” he grinned, “—where’s the nearest convenience shop here? I want some ice cream sticks.”

-

“I have to admit, summer nights here in Seoul are more acceptable than in Pyeongyang’s,” Seungyoon commented, an ice cream stick in hand, as he sat down on a swing. “This city has sweet ice creams.”

Mino snorted, sitting beside him. “Sometimes I’m convinced that you went here in Seoul to have the ice cream to yourself.”

“Speak for yourself—you’ve been hounding on all those sticky treats I gave you earlier,” Seungyoon snapped back, making Mino laugh.

Those sticky treats were rice cakes from Seungyoon’s hometown—a specialty of the place, Seungyoon had shared to Mino. He couldn’t help bringing some to the South, just a little something to keep him close to home.

“I never thought you had interest in painting,” Seungyoon told Mino. “Well, I did see you scribble once, but painting’s a different thing.”

“Just a hobby,” Mino said quietly. “Nothing too deep or whatever about it.”

The playground was quiet once more, save for the night breeze blowing. At the corner of his eye, Seungyoon watched Mino’s face, and he could see the million expressions reflected in his dark eyes. He knew Mino wanted to say something—utter something—but Seungyoon beat him to it.

It was what Mino deserved, after all.

“I’m sorry,” Seungyoon said softly. “I really should have said something about it, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Mino asked, although Seungyoon knew that Mino knew what he meant.

Seungyoon smiled humorlessly. “Me ditching you years ago.”

Ditching you. Running away from you. Escaping from you.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

I’m sorry Mino. I’m really sorry, I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me—

“Why?” Mino suddenly asked, and Seungyoon thought he could read his mind.

Seungyoon scrambled for words, wondering how to phrase out the reason. He didn’t want to lie—Seungyoon at lying—but could Mino face the truth?

“Our laws are different from yours,” Seungyoon replied, going for the safest reason. “I wanted to come back, but if I did, it would put your life in danger.

 [The Northern soldiers gathered by the place near the meadow, so Seungyoon couldn’t go. And maybe he’ll never be able to go, given that the tensions were slowly worsening.

As a result, nobody could go beyond the border. If he tried, he would die.

He couldn’t even send a note.

For the first time in a long while, Seungyoon was so frustrated.

Why is this so unfair?]

“Maybe you could’ve done something to warn me or what?” Mino’s pained reply woke him from his nightmarish reverie.

Seungyoon laughed lifelessly. “It would make everything worse.” For you. For you. “Especially for a non-Northerner.”

Especially for you.

A million expressions were reflected in Mino’s confused—and still pained—expression, along with a hundred emotions dancing in his face.

You deserve the truth, Mino—but can you handle it?

“Well,” Mino said, his voice rough, smiling, “You better make it up to me.”

Seungyoon gaped at him in confusion. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Mino shrugged, sounding unsure himself.

“You’re so odd for a Southerner,” Seungyoon rolled his eyes.

He fished the blue blooms from his inside pocket, wondering if they were still fresh. Thankfully, they still were as he handed them to Mino.

“Are these enough?” Seungyoon asked hopefully.

Mino gazed at him in shock and confusion, the flowers on his hand.

“I went there early in the morning,” Seungyoon explained. “They bloomed all around, and I’d thought of bringing some to you. You did say something that these were your favorites, didn’t you?”

Mino didn’t say anything as he stared at the flowers, his face unreadable.

“It’s not enough, I know,” Seungyoon said uneasily, chuckling. “But I’m in for a good start, ain’t I?”

Mino smiled at him, but his eyes were so dark and unreadable as he said, “Yeah, it’s not enough.”

What do you want, Mino? Seungyoon wanted to ask. What do you need?

Seungyoon’s fourth night ended up with questions that neither would probably answer.

-

Jiho’s face was tense when Seungyoon visited him the next day at the vinyl shop.

“It’s getting more suspicious now,” Jiho informed him, his voice tight. “A war is simmering somewhere—it’s not impossible anymore.”

Seungyoon knew—from the very moment he saw those soldiers gather by the meadow—that it would start anytime.

“But . . . this soon? For how long?” Seungyoon asked.

Jiho shook his head. “I have no idea, Seungyoon. But I’m pretty sure it would be declared soon—I believe both sides are only waiting for a trigger to use as an excuse to start firing.”

“Why?”

Jiho sighed, taking a seat by the window. “I don’t know, Seungyoon,” he said quietly, his gaze at the view outside. “I wish I knew, I wish I understood.  Will we ever understand wars—or rather, will they understand that wars never brought anything good?”

“I don’t want to fight, hyung,” Seungyoon mumbled. “I don’t want to end innocent lives.”

Jiho’s eyes were hard as he glared at him. “This was our fate, Seungyoon. They determined our lives way before we could even have our own judgment.”

“But hyung—”

“I know, Seungyoon,” Jiho cut him off. “But remember the consequences. We could never run away from them. You know that.”

Seungyoon was silent as he pondered Jiho’s words. He was right, after all—was it not the reason why he never dared to go the meadow that day? Was it not the reason why he never sent Mino a note?

And was it not the reason why he had to wear a mask all the time, to hide his own personal demons?

“One thing is for sure, Seungyoon,” Jiho said tersely. “The news will be dropped soon. Prepare yourself.”

-

On the morning of Seungyoon’s last day in Seoul (when he woke up nursing a hangover and cursing himself never to drink again, completely forgetting what happened the night before), the North and South declared war on each other.